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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24572584">Ghosts</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smilerlib/pseuds/Smilerlib'>Smilerlib</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Pedro Pascal - Fandom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 09:07:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,447</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24572584</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smilerlib/pseuds/Smilerlib</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
      <p>My first fan fiction!</p>
    </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Pedro Pascal/Reader, Pedro Pascal/You</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Back to life</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>My first fan fiction!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It had been twenty years, but he still looked the same. Well, ok, time had created a few more lines and wrinkles, added a couple of extra pounds. All the signs of a life well lived. But that smile, <em>that </em>was the same. The same broad grin that lit up his face from ear to ear. The same cute dimple. And, <em>my God</em>, it still made my heart flutter. When I entered the room and locked eyes on him again, it was like twenty seconds had passed, not twenty long years. This was going to be harder than I thought.</p><p>Walking into the room, I’d felt like the odd one out. Everyone was already a family, having worked together on the first season. His presence only made my first day nerves worse. I had no idea he’d be here. A friend had done me a favour putting me up for the job, but all she told was it was some sci-fi western, not a big deal. Would I have taken the job if I’d known? Well, I needed the job and the money, so I probably would. It was either that or waitressing. It wasn’t like jobs were easy to come by right now, and beggars couldn’t be choosers. I was still mulling that over as everyone sat down. Grabbing a coffee and a doughnut, I took at seat in the corner.</p><p>But really, what was I thinking taking this job? Twenty years in retail and I thought I could do this? Ok, so I’d had a few small TV credits after graduation, been a production assistant a couple of times, but that was just a distant memory, and this was not like riding a bike. Maybe I should get up and run now, save myself the embarrassment. It would be better than getting fired when they realised I wasn’t up to it. My nervous thoughts were wandering all over the place as the introductions started round the table. My face flushed and palms got damp as my turn came. I hated this sort of thing, speaking in a room full of people. I’d have to get over that if I wanted to do this job. And I really, really did.</p><p>‘Hi, Y/N, assistant producer,’ I said, trying not to trip over the words with half a mouthful of Krispy Kreme lodged under my tongue.</p><p>I forced a smile to hide my nerves. The last thing I wanted was for these amazing, talented people to think I was aloof and uncool. But the greeting I got back was warm and friendly. I daren’t look in his direction to see his reaction though. I wondered if he recognised me, or even remembered me. Twenty years of lovers must surely have scrubbed my memory from his brain.</p><p>The morning passed quickly, and before I knew it, it was time for lunch. As everyone dispersed, I took my time to collect my stuff, thinking I’d see where people headed for lunch. I didn’t want to get lost on my first day. I was so preoccupied, enjoying the relief of what a good morning it had been, and feeling that maybe I wouldn’t be a total failure, that I didn’t notice his approach until he was right by me.</p><p>‘Hi, Y/N,’ he said. His voice was soft but deep and throaty in my ear.</p><p>I looked up and it was if the last time I’d gazed into those dark brown eyes was just a minute ago, not years. Heat radiated up my body. How could he effect me this way after all this time? Trying to stay cool, I bit the inside of my mouth, hoping the pain would distract me enough to stay calm.</p><p>‘Hi, Pedro.’ Was my voice a little bit shaky? I hoped not.</p><p>I held out my hand to shake his, as if were were strangers, not long lost lovers. He gripped my palm in his hand, his thumb softly stroking my wrist. Yeah, that mouth biting thing was not going to work. I wondered if he could feel how his touch had quickened my pulse.</p><p>‘Long time, no see.’ He was doing that thing he used to do, staring straight into my eyes as if he could see into my soul. Though I wanted to look away, I held his stare as his hold on my hand tightened.</p><p>‘Yeah, what is it, 20 years?’ Not that I’d been counting or anything. Not that I hadn’t rued my mistake every single day.</p><p>‘Wow, 20 years!’ he said, ‘And you haven’t changed a bit.’</p><p>His grin widened and I wondered if he was joking. He wasn’t the only one who’d put on a few extra pounds. Months of comfort eating after my break up had taken its toll. A moment of the lips, a lifetime on the hips had never been truer in my case. I was no longer the slip of a girl he could easily put his arms around. As his smile lingered, I wondered if I’d been forgiven. He probably hadn’t thought about me at all, after he’d mentally kicked my ass all over town that is. I could see his mind working, his mouth screwing up on the verge of speech, wanting to say something, but not finding the words. There were no words for the hurt I’d caused him.</p><p>We stood like that for a few seconds, though it felt like hours, not saying a thing as everyone bustled around us. All I could do was grin idiotically back; it was like his smile was contagious. Always had been.</p><p>‘Pedro!’</p><p>Someone was shouting and beckoning him to go. The spell broken, he slowly released my hand. Was I imagining it, or was he reluctant to leave?</p><p>‘Well, I’m sure I’ll see you around,’ he smiled. ‘Good to see you again.’</p><p>‘Good to see you too.’</p><p>I watched him walk away, the ghost that had haunted me for half my life, come back to life.</p><p>This was going to be harder than I thought.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Walk</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Everyone else had headed home hours ago, but I’d a few things left to finish up. I hated leaving things undone, it would bug me all weekend and I wouldn’t be able to relax if I did. I stretched my neck, trying to relieve the tension that had built there from hours hunched over my laptop. When I got back to my apartment, I was looking forward to a large glass or two of red wine, a binge worthy Netflix box set and a hot soapy bath. Maybe some proper food that didn’t come out of a pizza box. The last couple of weeks had been extra busy and I’d hardly been home. I hadn’t even had time to unpack properly, all my earthly possessions still in half a dozen boxes. I’d need to sort that out this weekend.</p>
<p>It’d gone eight by the time I finally logged off. As I shrugged on my jacket, the door opened. It was Pedro. I hadn’t really seen him since the first day, except in passing. He’d say hello, maybe smile in acknowledgement that he’d seen me, but never stop to talk. As he came into the office, my heart did that stupid flipping thing again, like my insides had been invaded by butterflies. Why did I always feel like a girl and not a grown woman when he was around? Time and distance had not changed that.</p>
<p>‘Hey, Y/N,’ he said, ‘Working late?’</p>
<p>'Hey, Pedro. Yeah, no rest for the wicked,’ I grinned. ‘I thought everyone had gone.’</p>
<p>‘We just had a few things to run through. Prep for next week, y’know.’</p>
<p>His eyes look red and tired, and I suddenly felt a little protective, like I wanted to reach over and hug all the tiredness out of him. He ran his hand over his face, as if to banish the fatigue.</p>
<p>‘Anyway, a few of us are going for a couple of drinks...if you wanna join us...I mean...you don’t have to.. I just thought...’</p>
<p>He trailed off, leaving the words hanging. Was he nervous, or just weary? I couldn’t tell.</p>
<p>‘Um, I dunno it’s late. I’m shattered.’</p>
<p>I wanted nothing more than to go for a drink with them, maybe get him alone and find out if he still thought about me after all this time. But I didn’t want to seem too enthusiastic. And maybe part of me didn’t want to hear how much I’d broken his heart.</p>
<p>‘Well, y’know, it’s not like we have work tomorrow,’ he grinned like a naughty school boy.</p>
<p>That was the look I hadn't been able to resist all those years ago. The one that had made me do anything for him. Except stay when he had asked me to. But if he kept doing that now, I wouldn’t be able to resist. He wiggled his eyebrows at me in anticipation and I couldn’t help but laugh.</p>
<p>‘Ok, ok,’ I giggled. ’Just let me get my purse.’</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p>I hadn’t seen Pedro since we got to the bar. We’d got separated and I ended up in a group of people I didn’t really know, all scrunched up together in a booth, talking loudly over each other. The place was hot and crowded, and too loud to make any sense of the conversation. I was beginning to feel a little sick and faint. I looked into the crowd, searching for Pedro, but he’d vanished. Probably hooked up with some young production assistant, I thought. And why not? He was single, as far as I knew.</p>
<p>I decided I was going to finish my drink and then head home. This had been a stupid idea. Pedro had just asked me to be polite, that was the kind of guy he was; he always wanted to make people feel welcome and at ease. He didn’t actually want to spend any time with me.</p>
<p>Stepping out into the street, the cool night air woke me up and brought me to my senses. Shivering, I realised I’d left my jacket in the bar. Oh well, it wasn’t one of my favourites anyway. The walk home would warm me up. I was just figuring out my bearings to get home, when Pedro burst out of the door from the bar behind me.</p>
<p>‘Hey, Y/N! You forgot this,’ he said, handing me my jacket.</p>
<p>Surprise left me speechless. I took the jacket, put it on. I thought then that he’d say goodnight and head back into the bar, but all the while he was looking at me. Probably expecting a thank you.</p>
<p>‘Thanks, Pedro.’</p>
<p>‘You heading home?’ he asked.</p>
<p>‘Er, yeah. It's way past my bedtime,’ I joked nervously.</p>
<p>‘Can I walk with you for a bit?</p>
<p>‘Don’t you wanna get back to your friends?’ I looked at my watch, ‘It’s still early.’</p>
<p>'Nah, I can’t keep up with that lot. I’m an old man now, need my beauty sleep,’ he winked at me.</p>
<p>I wanted to tell him that he definitely did not need his beauty sleep. In his crisp white shirt and dark blue jeans, hair tousled from that habit he had of running his fingers through it when he was nervous, he was still as gorgeous as the day I’d met him. If I said that out loud, he’d think age had turned me into a crazy woman.</p>
<p>We fell into a slow stroll, side by side, steps synchronised, not saying a word. I remembered we used to do this a lot back then, walking instead of taking a cab because we wanted to save money. With an occasional stolen kisses along the way, it would take us twice as long to get home. And even now, though we walked in silence, it didn’t feel uncomfortable or unnatural, it was just as if we were finding our rhythm again.</p>
<p>‘Sorry we got separated back there,’ he broke the silence finally.</p>
<p>‘That’s ok. You’re a popular man.’</p>
<p>He rolled his eyes at me. He’d never been able to take compliment.</p>
<p>‘I really wanted to talk to you tonight, ‘cause we haven’t really had a chance.’</p>
<p>This was it. My chance to put it all right. My heart was pumping, my mouth was dry and full of apologies. All the things I wanted to say that I hadn’t been able to for 20 years.</p>
<p>As we passed under a light on the corner of the street, I realised where we were.</p>
<p>‘This is me,’ I said, indicating my apartment block. I could see the disappointment cross his face as we reached the gate.</p>
<p>‘Listen, how about breakfast tomorrow? I know this place that does great pancakes.’ He turned to me, his brow furrowed expectantly. I didn’t have the heart to disappoint him.</p>
<p>‘Sure, that sounds great,’ I said, a little sad our time together was ending, but thankful for the reprieve. I’d have time to rehearse my contrition, put it all together to see if it made any more sense than it did 20 years ago.</p>
<p>Satisfied, he waved goodbye, heading off into the night with a smile and a wink.</p>
<p>I was not getting out of this.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Forgive and forget</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I’d given myself plenty of time to get ready, gotten up at stupid o’clock on a Saturday morning so I wouldn’t be late. And I yet, I still was. This is a waste of time, I kept telling myself, as I grabbed my purse and keys. Had I really needed to spend an extra hour washing and blow drying my hair and doing my make up? Or another hour picking out an outfit that wasn’t too sexy or too frumpy? All for a man I’d let down twenty years ago. A man who would now only ever be a colleague, nothing more. I suppose that would be better than nothing. While tossing and turning in my bed last night, I’d decided I wanted him in my life in any capacity. But this was crazy. In all my forty odd years, no man had had this effect on me. And I’d let him go.<em> I was crazy</em>. Perspiration beaded my back as I rushed down the stairs and onto the street.</p><p>Thank God he was still waiting. As I entered the diner, he glanced up from the book he was reading, removed his glasses and smiled. He didn’t seem mad, even though I was half an hour late. By the look of the empty coffee cups on the table, he’d been there a while. He stood up as I crossed over to him, pulling out a chair so I could sit down. Always the gentleman.</p><p>‘I’m <em>so</em> sorry, Pedro,’ I began, still out of breath.</p><p>He raised his hand to stop me, and I could tell he was trying not to laugh at my excuses. His mouth lifted in a half smile, his eyes creasing slightly in that warm way he had, and a little bit of the tension fell from my shoulders.</p><p>‘Hey, Y/N. It’s ok, it’s ok.’ he said. I knew his words were meant to soothe me, and they did a little.</p><p>As he pushed my chair into the table, his hand grazed my arm, making the hairs stand on end. Was I imagining it or did his touch linger a millisecond longer than was just friendly? My heart flipped again. Stupid heart.</p><p>He ordered more coffees. He asked if I wanted food too, but my stomach was twisting in knots. He ordered pancakes for himself and settled back into his seat, his gaze not leaving me. Boy, did he look good. This was the first time we’d been alone together for longer than five minutes without a crowd, so I got a chance to examine him more thoroughly. He had that bed head hair that always suited him so well. I could tell he was in-between cuts, errant strands curling a little at the nape of his neck. Salt and pepper stubble crept up towards his moustache, and I imagined rubbing the back of my hand along his jawline. He was wearing his favourite faded Fleetwood Mac t-shirt. I wished I’d just worn jeans and a t-shirt instead of this stupid tea dress. Did I think I was on a date or something?</p><p>‘So,’ he began once the coffee and food had arrived. He stretched out the word as he leaned towards me. He was more eager for this than I was.</p><p>‘So,’ I echoed, not sure what he wanted me to say or how to begin.</p><p>He didn't take his eyes off me while he played with his food. It was unsettling. How could I concentrate under the gaze of those intense brown eyes? I hesitated, swirling the teaspoon around in my coffee as I collected my thoughts. The words to apologise for how I’d treated him didn’t exist in the English language yet.</p><p>‘I’m sorry.’ It came out in a whisper.</p><p>That was a start, but I could see from his frown it wasn’t enough. I had to give him more. I had to give him the story of my life before we could start again. If we could start again. Taking a deep breath, I continued.</p><p>‘I should never have left.’ His eyes widened at that. ‘I made a mistake.'</p><p>‘A mistake?’ he repeated and nodded slowly, as if translating the words in his head. 'You <em>disappeared.</em> I woke up and you were gone!' His voice cracked with pain.</p><p>There was nothing I could say to that. I took a gulp of hot coffee and carried on.</p><p>‘I thought we were just a fling, y’know. That I wasn’t going to be here long enough to fall for you. But I did.’ My voice trembled a little as I tried to get the words out. ‘I did. And when you asked me to stay, I panicked. <em>H</em><em>e </em>was back home, waiting for me. So guilt took me home.’</p><p>I shrugged as if that would explain it all. Looking down at my hands, I played with my rings, not daring to catch his gaze and see the pain I’d inflicted etched on his face.</p><p>‘And you married him.’</p><p>It wasn’t a question, but something he thought was a statement of fact. I shook my head.</p><p>‘No! We got engaged, but I knew in my heart it wasn’t right. I was a fool to stay with him as long as I did.’</p><p>I told him the whole story then. That we’d gotten engaged, but I’d kept putting the wedding off. Made all the excuses; we didn’t have enough money, or we needed better jobs, a bigger house. I told him we’d broken up and got back together numerous times, like a rubber band that won’t snap. I told him that there was some part of me that thought he’d call and beg me to come back. But I knew Pedro wasn’t the begging type. He was a proud man. When I resigned myself to this, I’d stayed with my ex out of habit, settled into that life, even when I knew about the affairs. Hell, I’d even travelled half way across the world when my fiancé got a job in the States, given up my career and friends, just so that everyone would know we were the real thing, And here I was after twenty years, stranded, after my ex dumped me for a colleague.</p><p>It had all come pouring out, all the regret I felt at the wasted years. I had tried to quell the tears, but once the words were out they fell freely, like a dam giving in to a great force.</p><p>There was a pause, and for a moment it was so quiet, I thought Pedro had left. Then I felt his hand on my face, brushing away my tears. Looking up, I saw his eyes well up too. His pancakes lay cold and barely touched on the plate.</p><p>‘I’m sorry,’ he said, taking my hand and kissing my palm softly.</p><p>‘Sorry? You’ve got nothing to be sorry for! He was the asshole, not you!’ I spluttered through my tears.</p><p>‘I rushed you, I wanted too much, too soon.' he sighed. 'I scared you off.’</p><p>‘No,’ I shook my head.</p><p>‘We were too young,’ he tried again.</p><p>‘No!’ I whispered. ‘I was just too scared to stay because I knew it would mean a totally different life than I’d planned.’</p><p>My breath caught as I admitted that. I hadn’t admitted it back then.</p><p>‘I love you.’ His voice was strong and determined.</p><p>I had wanted his forgiveness and with those three words, I knew I had it.</p>
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